


They won't ever hurt you

by Flightless_Bird



Series: "My Alexander" [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: "Just share this space with me" universe, Asexual/aromantic Madison, Cute French nicknames, Cute nicknames in general, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I love James with my entire soul, Lee is an ass, Nonconsensual kissing/touching, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Shy!Madison gives me life, a little violence, and Alex too, clothes-sharing, platonic crushes, possible one-sided crush from Alex?, protective!Alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-17 00:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10582278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightless_Bird/pseuds/Flightless_Bird
Summary: "It felt wrong, it felt so wrong, fingers painting black lines on his skin, and he hated it, he didn't want this; he wanted Alex, his Alex, who would never hurt him or touch him like this, who was gentle and caring, and made James feel safe when he was in his arms."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am in love with these two now, so yeah, I wrote this stupidly fast today. I needed to get it out of my system, I guess. :3
> 
> Comments=happiness, and I would love to hear your feedback!

He needed to get away from this guy.

  
That was the only thought in James Madison's head at the moment. He _needed_ to get out of here.

  
The lights above the football field didn't reach this far back, behind the shadow of the bleachers. The cool metal pressed against his hands as he leaned back against it, index fingers tapping uneasily. Another inch and his back would be against it too. Anything to get him farther away from this guy. All he knew was his name—Charles Lee—and that was because he'd heard Laurens and Alex grumbling about him before. He didn't know Lee personally, so he'd never been sure why they disliked him.

  
Now, he could see why perfectly.

  
"So, tell me, James," Lee began slyly, bracing his hand on the wall by James's head. His eyes glinted dangerously. "What's a guy like you doing here all by yourself?"

  
James's gaze slid off to the side, twisting his fingers in the hem of his navy sweater. "A guy like me?" he echoed.

  
"Yeah. Cute." Lee's mouth twisted up at the corner, sickeningly arrogant, and he dared to lean closer. "Kinda hot, if you ask me," he added in a lower tone.

  
An uncomfortable prickle crawled its way up James's back and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He mumbled something like a thank-you, but couldn't look Lee in the eye when he did. There were very very few people who could call him that and get away with it, without making him feel...weird. In fact, only Alex could, but Alex jokingly catcalled all his friends if he thought they looked good. _Alex_. James's stomach twisted. He wished Alex was here now.

  
"Well, um, I'm not by myself, you know," he told Lee matter-of-factly. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "My friends are by the, uh, concession stand." Dammit, he did not sound convincing at all, even though it was true.

  
Lee scoffed, like this was as much of a lie as it sounded. "You can leave them alone for a few minutes, right? For me?"

  
"I...I don't think so," James hedged. "They might be wondering where I am."

  
"Aw, c'mon. I don't bite."

  
"I really think I should go..."

  
"Give me a kiss before you do?"

  
James started at that, wide eyes darting up to Lee's face. Shit, he was definitely leaning closer. "No, I don't think—"

  
It happened fast. Before he could move, Lee's hands had closed around his wrists and jerked them up by his head. He stepped forward, shoving James up against the bleachers, chest hard on his. Gasping, James struggled to yank his wrists free and squirmed under Lee's weight. He was too close, the sharp, cold scent of cologne washing over James and making him cough. His skin crawled, but the discomfort was overcome by a new spark of anger. _Son of a bitch_. "Get off!" he snapped, twisting away from Lee and trying to wrench his arms free. Lee just laughed and pulled James from the wall for a split second before slamming him back against it with a thud. Pain blossomed in the back of his head and spine, and James choked on his breath.

  
"Aw, baby, don't be like that," Lee purred, sickly-sweet. His forehead bumped into James's and it took James two seconds to figure out that Lee was going to kiss him. His heart leaped up into his throat.

  
Then Lee's mouth was on his, hard and forceful, and James's whole body shied away from it. A pitiful whimper escaped his throat and he tried to turn his head. But Lee was kissing him hard enough for James to worry that he might bruise, tongue running along his lips and trying to get him to give in. It was disgusting, not just because James never liked kissing, but because it was Lee. _Charles fucking Lee_ was kissing him up against the bleachers. The thought sent a brief flash of rebellion to light in his chest. Growling, he bit down on Lee's lower lip. He tasted blood, heard Lee's muffled swearing, and triumph flickered through him. Then Lee brought his knee up into James's stomach.

  
_That_ hurt like hell, and James's body tried to curl over. He bit his cheek over a noise as flames lit themselves in his abdomen. Then Lee was grabbing his shoulder and forcing him upright again, back to the bleachers. "Little shit," he muttered, skimming his fingers down James's chest. "You fucking bit me. Doesn't matter though. I kinda like it when you try to get away." He made to kiss James again, but James jerked his head away. He settled for biting down on James's ear, a hand working its way under his sweater.

  
"St—stop," James stammered thickly, writhing under Lee's body. It felt wrong, it felt so wrong, fingers painting black lines on his skin, and he _hated_ it, he didn't want this; he wanted _Alex_ , his Alex, who would never hurt him or touch him like this, who was gentle and caring, and made James feel safe when he was in his arms. Thinking of his best friend, his most important person, was a bad idea, because his eyes started to burn. _I am not going to cry in front of Charles Lee, I am not going to cry, I am not_ —

  
" _Hey!!_ " The voice cracked like a whip, making both Lee and James jump. Suddenly, hands were knotting in the back of Lee's jacket and wrenching him off of James. James inhaled a shaky breath of relief as the suffocating weight and hands left him. Then his eyes grew round when he saw Alexander, slamming Lee face-first against the bleachers with a loud bang. Lee yelped, teeth pressed tightly together as Alex twisted one of his arms up his back. His face blazed with anger, but Alex looked far worse: brown eyes turned black with fury and shoulders in a tense line.

  
"Get the hell off me, Hamilton!" Lee yelled. Then he hissed when Alex hiked his arm farther up his back.

  
"Shut the fuck up!" Alex shouted, the heat in his voice making even James cringe. "You're scum, Lee, fucking _scum_ if you think you can do that to him!"

  
Lee had the audacity to sneer over his shoulder. "What, you don't like it if someone else touches your little bitch—ow!" He barked as Alex twisted his arm again.

  
"You _ever_ fucking touch him again, I'll end you," Alex vowed darkly. "You hear me?" There was a stubborn silence from Lee and Alex's jaw clenched. "Do you hear me, you piece of shit?"

  
Weakly, Lee nodded. Satisfied with that for now, Alex let him go and took several steps back. Lee fell away from the wall and rolled his shoulders, wincing as he straightened out his arm. Alex stabbed a finger toward the end of the bleachers. "Get the hell out of here," he ordered, "before I really try to break your damn arm."

  
Glaring at them over his shoulder, Lee slunk away. He didn't try to argue, thank God, and he didn't try to start a fight. James's shoulders sagged in relief. He didn't know what he'd do if he had to watch Alex get hurt.

  
Breathing heavily, Alex ran his hands through his hair and twisted it back into a quick, messy bun. It was a habit he did when he was mad and needed to calm down. Then he seemed to remember that James was there and he spun around to face him. The concern in his expression sent warmth spreading gratefully into James's chest. The adrenaline was slowly melting out of his system, leaving him shivery and teary-eyed. He could still feel Lee's hands on him, burning his skin and his harsh kisses on his lips. "A—Alex?"

  
Alex hurried to him, hands coming up to cradle James's face. Then his hands halted just before meeting his skin. "Can I touch you?" he asked, sounding so considerate that James had to swallow around a lump in his throat. He nodded shakily and Alex's fingers cupped his jaw, warm and familiar. "Maddie, _mon petit soleil_ ," Alex murmured, the endearment slipping out on its own.

  
It was part of an unspoken agreement between them. They weren't dating, exactly; James didn't want a romantic relationship and never had. But if Alex was worried about him, or wanted to let him know he cared, he used those little words in French. James didn't understand them, but they let him know that Alex was there for him, that they were something closer to family than anything else.

  
"No, don't cry," Alex pleaded, and James realized that tears were starting to trail down his cheeks. Softly, Alex stroked his thumbs across his cheekbones, catching his tears. "He can't touch you now, he's never gonna hurt you again."

  
James rubbed a hand over his eyes, embarrassment hinted in his movements. "I'm okay," he managed. Then he looked at Alex in his favorite maroon jacket, the one that made him look smaller, and felt a wave of affection for him. "Are you okay?"

  
Alex blinked. "I'm fine," he answered, a wry laugh coming from his chest. He cocked his head. "You were just...attacked, and you're worried about me?"

  
"...yeah," James admitted sheepishly.

  
Alex shook his head, a half-smile quirking his lips. "C'mere," he said simply, and James stepped forward into the open space of his arms. Alex pulled him in against his chest and held him, arms secure around his back. Still shaking a bit, James hugged him back tightly. He rested his cheek on Alex's shoulder, nose turned toward his neck. The memory of Lee's cologne was chased away by Alex's scent: warm fabric and skin, something sweet beneath that reminded him of home.

  
"Thanks, Alex," he mumbled.

  
"Don't worry about it," Alex whispered back. "I wanted an excuse to kick Lee's ass anyway."

  
Smiling slightly, James drew back and Alex's hands slipped away from him. Without him, he felt suddenly cold and that, paired with his already-crawling skin, made him trembly. "Here," Alex said, unzipping his jacket.

  
James held up a hand to stop him. "Oh, no, that's okay," he insisted. "I don't need it."

  
"Tell that to your hands," Alex told him wryly.

  
James looked down at his hands then and saw them shaking. "Oh," he remarked quietly. Alex shrugged out of his jacket, leaving him in a black, long-sleeved shirt. James ducked his head shyly as Alex draped it over his shoulders. Pushing his arms into the sleeves, he sighed as the reassuring warmth settled around him.

  
"C'mon," Alex urged, tilting his head in the direction of the concession stands. "Let's go find everyone. Burr and Hercules have a bet going on which team's gonna win, and I wanna see who's winning so far."

  
He started to walk away and anxiety flooded over James in an icy wave. He felt small without Alex by his side, vulnerable like Lee could come back and pin him to another wall. "Hey," he tried, and Alex paused expectantly. Sending his gaze down to his feet, James bit his bottom lip. "Can I... Can you walk with me?"

  
"Of course." Walking back to his side, Alex looped an arm around his waist. James leaned gratefully into his side and Alex rubbed his hand up and down his arm. "This okay?" he asked.

  
"Mmhm," James hummed, and this time when Alex walked, he guided James along beside him. They might've gotten a few curious glances sent their way, but he didn't mind. He and Alex were used to it by now. They knew what their relationship was and that was all that mattered. When someone drifted too close, Alex would reel him in closer, hand pressed reassuringly to James's side and gaze fixed readily on the stranger. That feeling of safety that only came with Alex fell over James once more and he rested his head on his shoulder for a moment. "Hey, Alex," he said, and Alex glanced down at him. James smiled. "I'm really happy you're my—" He faltered. What was Alex, exactly? They weren't dating, he was sure of that, but they weren't really friends either. In the end, he settled with, "Alexander."

  
An endearing flush turned Alex's cheeks pink at having been called "my Alexander." He coughed awkwardly into his fist and James couldn't help but snicker at the sight of a flustered Alexander Hamilton. "I'm happy too," Alex mumbled. James poked him in the side and when Alex looked at him, he smirked knowingly. Growling, Alex turned away from him with a huff. "Shut up."


End file.
